"Oh, if I had but refused to go when Claude asked me!" she cried in a voice of anguish. "If I had only been true to what I knew was right! I am bitterly punished."
Not more bitterly than he was. The thought seemed to strike her suddenly. He had been in prison for over three weeks; he had been charged with the most terrible crime—he whose only fault was that of loving her too well. She must save him.
Then with a sudden thrill of fear she remembered how near the assizes were—they were to be held on the twenty-third and this was the twentieth. She would have only just time to reach Loadstone. She must say good-by to those who loved her, and had watched over her; she must leave all her love, her hope, her happiness behind, and go forth to save him who was willing to give even his life to save her. She must go. She must find out how she could reach England. The great brooding anguish of despair seemed to have fallen over her; her heart ached until it could ache no more; she wept until she seemed to have no more tears; she appeared to grow insensible to the pain that was wearing her young life away.
"I must go to-morrow night," she said to herself. "I shall see Adrian just once again, and then I must bid him farewell forever. Oh, my love, my love!"
She flung herself upon the floor, and wept until the morning dawned and the summer sun peeped into the room.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
She was roused from her heavy trance of exhaustion and grief by a knock at her door. It was one of the housemaids bearing in her hand a bouquet of beautiful flowers—"From Mr. Darcy." The girl looked in wonder at her young lady's pale face and heavy eyes.
"You do not seem well this morning, miss," she said.